


(Coffee's for Closers)

by the_sylph_of_mind



Series: How the Mighty Fall in Love [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, F/M, Light BDSM, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sylph_of_mind/pseuds/the_sylph_of_mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of stories set in different parallel universes in which Thor and Natasha find themselves caught up in lust with each other, all under extremely different circumstances. In this installment, it's a party in Avengers Tower, and Natasha and Thor challenge each other to a drinking game. What could possibly follow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday

     Natasha carefully lifted her collection of shot glasses out from their place in the cupboard. The party in the belly of Avengers Tower was a bring your own affair, though she was confident that nothing anyone else would bring was likely to get her even tipsy, and if she shared what she had (only the best, straight from the Motherlands) she would be the last one standing, so it didn’t really bother her. The round tops of the shot glasses clinked on the countertop one after the other, numbering eight in total. She grinned, picturing playing an old drinking game she knew with the rest of her team and watching all of them keel over one after the other. Especially Thor. She would pay to see just what her “mortal concoction” did to his haughty conduct. Her grin widened, picturing the golden adonis clutching Mjolnir and hanging off of Steve’s perfectly sober shoulder, voice even more booming than usual.

     She collected her shot glasses and anything liquid with a Russian label and made her way out of her room towards the elevator, down to the party beginning to thrum below.


	2. Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

     The music was vibrating the doors of the elevator long before she reached the floor the party was on. As the doors smoothly opened and Natasha stepped out onto the landing, the music and chatter hit her like a force field. Yes, this was definitely a Tony Stark party. She held her bag of shot glasses and alcohol close to her chest as she wound between the drunk alternating with the rowdy until she spotted a familiar face. 

     Clint waved her over to his small circular bar table where he and Tony were exchanging banter. 

     “Okay but seriously, ‘in the bedroom’ is clearly the _best_ time to turn into the hulk!” Tony was saying, emphatically gesticulating. 

     “I think you’re confusing bigger with better, Tony.” Clint said as he gave Natasha a one armed hug as she reached their little black glass table. 

     “Why, do you suffer from, you know, performance issues?” Tony waggled his eyebrows at Natasha. 

     “What are you looking at me for?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow and setting her bag of alcohol on the table. “What are you boys drinking?”

     It was at that moment that Bruce peeked into the circle of heads opposite Natasha. 

     “For your information, the worst possible time to turn into the other guy isn’t in the bedroom.” Tony jumped at the sudden voice in his ear, then grinned.

     “So what is, buddy?” 

     “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Bruce said with a little smirk and was pulled reluctantly back into the crowd. 

     “Well, yes I would. I have a bet to settle!” Tony called after him. Clint chuckled as Natasha poured herself a shot of vitreous liquid. 

     “Where’s Steve?” She asked, scanning the crowd briefly before tipping back her first shot of the night, with many more than she could anticipate to follow. 

     “He doesn’t drink.” Clint said simply, shrugging one shoulder. 

     “He could still muster the social etiquette to answer an invitation.” Tony grumbled. 

     “You saying I don’t have manners?” Tony jumped a second time at a voice in his ear. 

     “Okay that’s getting old. I’m gonna put a bell on every one of you guys.” He huffed.

     “Glad you could make it.” Natasha chuckled, offering Steve a shot on principle.

     “No thanks, Nat. Though I do know somebody that might appreciate that shot a good deal more than me. It seems our pal Thor is in a bit of a bind.”

     Natasha raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. 

     “Not in a literal bind. Much as I’m sure you’d like that.” Clint said into his drink. He choked on it when Natasha punched his shoulder. 

     “Follow me” Steve said with a chuckle, offering Natasha his arm. She collected her alcohol and hooked her arm under his, touching Tony’s shoulder affectionately as she left, and wordlessly leaving Clint to rub his shoulder with no goodbye. 

     Steve wound his way through the crowded dance floor (effectively, the entirety of the party was either a bar or the dance floor) with Natasha in tow. She lifted her bag of vodka and shot glasses over her head to squeeze between two people she’d never seen before and nearly stumbled into Thor’s broad back. 

     “Thor, hey.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder amiably. Thor turned towards them and smiled, but it wasn’t quite as full as his usual sun-like grin. 

     “What’s up, thunder boy?” Natasha asked him, reaching forward and putting a hand on his firm arm. “Steve tells me you could use a hand.”

     Thor sighed and reached into his pocket, withdrawing his small flask.

     “I fear I have been…put on probation.”

     Natasha and Steve looked at each other. 

     “…From what and by whom?” Steve asked him.

     “My father informed me that I was no longer to make use of the palace’s private distilleries, since I have been indeed making perhaps too much use of them as of late. It is festival season in Asgard and the wine flows freely there, but seeing as the guests of this gathering were required to provide their own drink, I fear tonight will be rather uneventful for me.”

     He pocketed his empty flask and sighed a second time. Steve and Natasha exchanged another glance. 

     “Being sober isn’t all that bad, buddy.” Steve offered. “I’m sober all the time and—“

     “No no. No.” Natasha cut him off, sharply putting a hand on his chest. “We’re not gonna be able to sell sobriety to a god, least of all with you as a spokesperson. Here, Thor.”

     Natasha heaved her bag of alcohol onto a nearby empty table and began pulling bottles out. 

     “…You don’t think I make a good spokesperson?” Steve piped, a little hurt.

     “I don’t think you could make being sober sound fun, Steve.” Natasha said with a grin.

     “I made war bonds sound fun!” He quipped. 

     “Fair enough, but one way or another, Thor isn’t leaving the party with his wits about him.” She replied, lining up shot glasses on either side of the little circular table. Thor raised his palms and shook his head. 

     “Lady Natasha, it would be dishonorable of me to consume your drink with nothing to provide in exchange. I’m grateful, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

     “That’s too bad, I was about to make it real fun.” Natasha said, pouring a shot for herself and one for Thor. “How does that code of honor fare if I challenge you to a drinking game?”

     “…I beg your pardon?”

     “A drinking game. You and me. I’m inviting you to share my vodka and in exchange you provide me with a challenge. I want to see if I can drink a god under the table.” She smirked, tapping the rim of the shot glass with a slender fingertip. Thor grinned widely. 

     “You challenge a god to a game of consumption? I daresay you are daft, but I accept!” He pulled a chair up opposite Natasha and she slid the shot of invigorating liquid over to him. 

     “You kids have fun, okay? I don’t want to spoil it by being a sobriety salesman.” Steve touched Natasha’s arm and clapped Thor on the shoulder again before disappearing back into the crowd, a little despondently. 

     “I believe you hurt his feelings.” Thor said, chuckling.

     “I think he’s miffed because he knows I’m right.” Natasha replied.

     “That is very possibly so! I can hardly imagine anyone successfully encouraging another to refrain from inebriation, least of all Steve.” Natasha laughed and raised her shot glass.

     “One to start us off?”

     “Verily!” Thor clinked his shot glass to hers and they tipped them back simultaneously, neither so much as batting an eye at the searing liquid. Natasha smiled. Finally, a worthy opponent. 


	3. This Ain't a Scene, it's an Arms Race

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: Use of alcohol in this chapter, but all contact is consensual in this and all following chapters.

     “So, which game shall we play? I know a few Asgardian shanties to which we could consume some drink!” Thor’s hand hovered near the bottle of vodka. 

     “Truth or Drink.” Natasha motioned for him to go ahead and refill his shot glass. The liquid made a sound like chimes as it poured from the bottle. “Really it’s simple. I ask you a question about yourself, and you can either choose to answer it honestly, or take a shot.”

     Thor raised an eyebrow. 

     “If this is your game of preference on most occasions, I can guess why others no longer pose a challenge for you. I doubt there is much you wish to reveal about yourself; quite the tolerance for a mortal must have built up over time.”

     “I don’t know,” She said with a wry smile. “I think I have a high tolerance because I’m Russian. Or I was.” 

     Thor chuckled, low and rumbling in his chest. 

     “Whatever the case, it matters not how you came to be so accustomed to alcohol, merely that you wish to rival my own tolerance! Let us begin, Lady Natasha!” 

     “If you insist.” She said. “You can start.”

     Thor’s eyebrows furrowed, tapping his finger against the side of his full shot glass, causing little circular ripples to flow across the surface of the vodka. 

     “Are you in love?” He asked. Natasha was taken aback.

     “What made you ask me that?”

     Thor shrugged. “It seemed like something you would rather drink to conceal than reveal to anyone. The object of the game is to win, is it not?” He winked at her.

     She chuckled. She’d never seen Thor wink before. It was a charming gesture, paired with his grin that could light up a planet. 

     “Well unfortunately for you, you misjudged me. No, I am not in love.” 

     Thor’s shoulders slumped a little. Natasha quirked an eyebrow, unsure if his disappointment stemmed from his loss this round or the answer to his question. She decided not to pursue it and instead nudged his shot glass a little closer to him with her fingertip and asked,

     “What’s the most embarrassing trick you ever fell for?” Thor was motionless for a moment, then he gripped his shot glass and swallowed down the harsh fluid. Natasha grinned. “Is that a story for another time?”

     “That is a story I will take to my grave, Lady Natasha.” Thor replied, refilling his glass. “Now that I see just how underhandedly you are planning to play, I know how to tailor my own inquiries. So for you my question is this:” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You’ve been restrained many times before as a hostage. Have you ever been bound by another for pleasure?”

     Natasha thought for a moment. She’d never trusted a partner outside of the Red Room training, even one like Clint, enough to tie her willingly, but that didn’t mean she’d never thought about it. Frequently. The real question was whether or not she wanted to reveal that to Thor.

     Natasha wrapped her fingers around the bottle of quickly diminishing vodka and poured the liquid into the small glass in front of her. 

     “Oh ho!” Thor’s booming laugh reverberated around the large, crowded space. “I believe we have evened the odds, as you would say!”

     “Yeah, yeah. It won’t last long.” She said with a blush. Thor’s attention narrowed onto her flushed cheeks.

     “I have never witnessed you blush before. It’s quite appealing.” This only caused Natasha’s blush to darken. 

     “Only two shots in and you’re admitting things like that? I thought you’d be more of a difficult opponent.” 

     “Do not be so quick to judge the reasons for my honesty, my dear Lady Natasha!” Thor chuckled as Natasha licked her lips clean of residual alcohol. She watched his eyes linger on her mouth for a moment before asking him,

     “And you?”

     “Hm?”

     “Have you ever been bound for pleasure?”

     “…I—” Thor paused and blushed in turn, refilling his shot glass and tipping it down his throat in one fluid motion. Natasha laughed, victorious. 

     “Your blush looks good on you, too, Thor.” 

     “The God of Thunder does not blush.”

     “Mhm. Lying to a lady? That means you either have been tied up or you really, really want to be.”

     “Thor tapped his fingertips on the table rapidly, looking everywhere but Natasha.

     “I…I believe it is my turn to as you a question.” 

     “Shoot.”

     Thor continued drumming his fingers on the tabletop, but this was more a thoughtful thrum than a nervous jitter.

     “Have you ever wondered if you are worthy?”

     Taken aback, Natasha blinked. 

     “Come again?”

     “If you are worthy. To wield Mjolnir.”

     “…I…don’t know. I mean I guess everyone has wondered that.”

     Thor waggled his eyebrows at her, a little tipsy.

     “Would you like to find out?”

     Natasha paused and tapped her thumb on the edge of her shot glass. 

     “I’ll drink to that one.” She said, reaching to refill her vodka. Thor chuckled, bemused.

     “That was not my intended purpose, but if it pleases you to drink, I shall not attempt to stop you.”

     Natasha swallowed down the liquid, beginning to be less perceptive to its burn. Her eyes were wandering around Thor’s face for a little too long after she set her shot glass down. Thor raised an eyebrow. She ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass and licked the residual vodka from it as she pondered what to ask her opponent. Across the table, Thor’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

     “What’s your type?” She posed to him. 

     “My type?” Thor asked, confused.

     “Like, in women.” 

     Understanding lit Thor’s expression. 

     “I like women of intellect and moral and physical strength!” He replied readily. Natasha quirked an eyebrow.

     “You seemed awfully eager to answer that question.”

     “Well then, you must endeavor to ask me something I wish not to answer!” Thor laughed again, like a thunderclap. “But now ’tis again my turn to ask you something.”

     “Come up with a good one. I’m not drunk enough yet.”

     “Nor I!” Thor chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye alike to that of his brother’s. He set down his shot glass in front of him before asking, looking Natasha dead in the eyes from across the table:

     “Do you sometimes find yourself fantasizing about members of our team?” 

     “No.” She said, too little and too late.

     “Ah, I believe the rules of this game should also stipulate that drinking a shot be penance for lying…or two.” A cat-like grin stretched across Thor’s face, an expression akin to none Natasha had ever seen him display. “Did you not say in response to my first inquiry that you were not in love?”

     “I’m not.” 

     “Ah, so ’tis merely lust. Fair, fair. So…who is it?”

     “You can ask me that on your next turn. I’ll just drink.”

     “Ah, have I found the subject that, upon prying, ensures your intoxication?” 

     “You keep asking questions, Thor. It’s dishonorable to deny a lady her turn.”

     Natasha’s hands were ever steady despite her staccato heart rate as she poured herself another shot, Thor looking on and boasting a smug expression.

     “Fair enough, Lady Natasha. I shall have patience, for the night is but a fledgeling one. What would you ask of me?”

     It took her a moment to collect her thoughts enough to think of a question, needing to snatch them back from trailing over Steve’s chest, sweetly lingering on Bruce’s charm, clinging to Clint’s arms, admiring Tony’s razor-wit, and climbing like a tree Thor’s…Thor’s…

     “…Lady Natasha?” 

     She blinked out of her roller-coaster of a fantasy to Thor waving his broad, calloused hand in front of her face. Chuckling nervously, she tried to push it away in jest, but half nerves and half booze caused her aim to falter and instead she trailed her fingertips over his palm, lingering around the sharp bone of his wrist. 

     Natasha’s training as a spy gave her the skill to detect micro expressions and discern their meanings. She watched as if from outside her body as Thor’s expression shifted. She saw his pupils widen almost imperceptibly, and then just as quickly narrow as a glint flashed in them. She saw his grin, drunken, raucous and broad, falter slightly in surprise at the chemicals released within him at the simple touch from his teammate, and when Thor’s grin returned, it was less like a tipsy display of enjoyment and more like a predator baring its teeth before the chase, one which was bound to be exciting, dangerous. 

     Their hands wavered in the air for a split second more before returning to the table, accompanied by nervous but knowing grins. Thor was the first to speak.

     “Your question, Lady Natasha?”

     “Oh, right.” Natasha swallowed and her gaze bounced around the crowded and rowdy room for a few moments.

     “Do you ever find yourself in that position?”

     “Hm?”

     “What you asked me, do you ever find yourself fantasizing about our team.”

     Thor chuckled slyly and slid his weight to the side of the small table, languidly grinning at her as he reached for the vodka bottle.

     “Simply for the purpose of igniting your curiosity, I shall drink.” Natasha blinked. 

     “Wait, really?”

     “Verily.” He tipped the shot back. 

     “…But, that’s not fair.”

     “You lecture me on fairness?” Thor said with a chuckle, setting his empty shot glass down onto the table. Natasha scowled as Thor’s grin grew a little wider and smugger. “But now again I ask the identity of the lucky man or woman that so enchants you.” 

     “So you really aren’t playing fair.”

     Thor clutched at where his heart sat beneath his taught chest in mock-offense.

     “Again you accuse me! I, the heir to Asgard, would never play unfairly. I follow the rules you set to the letter. Perhaps it is you who should alter her strategy, since mine appears to be the winning one and yours, the losing.” He quirked an eyebrow and grinned devilishly at the expression of resigned annoyance she flashed him at that. “Though I would not doubt you have a duplicity in your play,” He set his elbows on the small table and gestured amusedly with one hand, loosely toying with his shot glass with the other. “A person with training such as yourself must never be without her mind games, dare I guess that you are merely allowing me to gain a lead, encouraging my bravado, in order to later dethrone me as a greater fall to my pride?”

     Natasha sat silently across from him, watching the assured fluidity of his idle movements, the confidence granted to him half by his royal blood and half by the steadily climbing alcohol content of it. She never thought him dumb, of course he would catch on to her methods after working with her for so long, but what took her aback was that she didn’t have a ploy to lure him into falsely thinking the game was his, and that it took him assuming so for her to realize it. 

     “…No,” She said after a moment. “Normally I would, but I guess you bring out the honesty in me.” She chuckled wryly. “I guess I chose a poor game to play with you, if that’s the case.”

     “Perhaps, for you, indeed.” Thor leaned forward onto his elbows, his face half-closing the distance to hers across the little black table. “Perhaps not for I.” She watched as his grin, broad and toothy, closed slightly to a sly, knowing curve. “If honesty is the object of the game, perhaps I might learn the answer to the question you have been deftly avoiding.”

     Natasha returned his coy grin, thinking. He wanted to know which of them she was lusting after, and she could simply take a shot to end the probing for this particular vein of thought and force Thor to come up with something else. Alternatively, she could tell him, she thought, tracing little circles on the table in front of her with a long, dextrous index finger, watching Thor’s eyes flick between her face and her nimble hands. She could confess that all of them had a particular feature or attitude or quirk that she found attractive (as she was fairly certain any of the others felt or would feel if her suspicions were correct), but she knew that wasn’t the answer Thor was looking for. Perhaps when he first brought up that question it was simple curiosity. Now, though, after they had been playing games with each other, both the present drinking game and game of dodging certain questions, igniting competition, concealing expressions and letting slip gestures, now he was after something more specific, more concrete, more bold and sharp and daring and dangerous. Alternatively still, she could give him what he wanted. 

     Adrenaline flooded her, the kind of feeling she always got before taking a move she knew was risky, and momentarily half-dispersed the fog in her mind. Through slightly clearer eyes, with a slightly clearer head, she looked across the table at her opponent, her teammate, her friend, a literal god among men. He was waiting patiently for her answer, sure, she thought, that he knew what it could be, that he knew what she was contemplating. It was a simple game, and there were only so many answers she could fairly give. She inhaled sharply, the kind taken when almost about to speak, and she carefully observed his pupils dilate, black eclipsing the sky blue. He was hanging on her words. She was in control. 

     “You might,” she said slowly, casually. Thor quirked an eyebrow and deftly filled a shot glass, the vodka ballooning over the clear rim, held together by luck and tension. He set the near-empty bottle down and ripples swept across the surface of the shot, threatening to spill the vodka onto the table. He gestured toward it, a dare in his eyes and on his tongue. 

     “I’ll keep it as a secret, Lady Natasha.” 

     “Will you, now?” She leaned forward, watching the surface tension wobble on the overfull shot glass. “I thought you would be the kind to brag when a woman shows an interest in you.” 

     They were both leaning forward onto their elbows, faces only inches apart across the small span of the cocktail table. Natasha matched Thor’s pose and raised an eyebrow, watching his expression shift subtly and a lustful blush she was sure he hadn’t expected rise in his cheeks. She grinned. She had risen to his dare. He had gotten what he wanted, now it was her turn to up the ante and challenge him. She leaned another inch closer, feeling his breath cross the skin of her chin and collarbone. 

     “I doubt you’ll keep it between the two of us. I doubt you’ll have any degree of subtlety when you leave here with me.” She said, and watched as the grin that had played across his features in varying shades since she sat down with him slowly shrank away and darkened into a hungry glare. 

     “Oh, but you wish it.” He rasped, his voice also a touch darker and rougher. “You wish for all here to know how you’ve enchanted me. ‘Tis not I who boasts when one falls to their knees before me, but you. ’Tis in your title, The Black Widow, with the intent to kill…” He faltered for a moment, eyes flicking between her lips and her eyes. “…after she’s made love to the lustful fool who thinks little of consequences.” 

     He lifted a hand from the table and gently pressed his rough palm to her cheek, fingers disappearing into her hair and under her delicate jawline. She smiled calmly, watching his features crumble into the picture of need, lips parting and breath becoming hotter and heavier. He leaned an inch closer to her, the hand cupped around her face careful not to pull her towards him. At the movement, the surface tension of the shot of vodka between them finally collapsed, spilling clear down the side of the glass and forming a reflective ring of liquid around the base. 

     Before he could close the distance between their mouths, she pressed a slender finger to his lower lip, stopping him. His eyes, clouded with lust, refocused, and confusion crossed his features. 

     Natasha scanned the room around them. Most people were either dancing, drinking, or talking amongst themselves or to Tony, but a few pairs of eyes had glanced at the two Avengers beginning to exchange touches. She stood.

     “I don’t think you’ll have it in you to stop once we start.” She cooed, and watched with satisfaction as Thor’s tongue traced his lower lip hungrily, where her finger had been pressed. “Here isn’t the best place to make such a scene, don’t you agree?” 

     Thor seemed about to vocalize his agreement, but lust had him by the throat and all he could manage was a nod. He stood as well, reaching for the vodka bottle as he did. Natasha bit back a chuckle when she glanced downward and saw that he was pressing the bottle to a bulge in his jeans, attempting nonchalance. Natasha grasped the bag of her remaining alcohol and lifted it from the table, then noticed the abandoned shot. She delicately laced her fingers around the small glass and raised it to her lips, tipping her head back and swallowing the searing liquid in one fluid motion. The vodka bottle twitched in Thor’s grip. She slipped the glass into her bag and collected Thor’s from the table as well; they clinked together in the bottom of her bag as she began walking toward the elevator with Thor in tow close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With my life happening as it did, it took me a year on and off to finish this chapter, but here it is! I'm proud of it and the good stuff is close behind! Thank you to all for your readership, new or continued!


	4. XO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Included in this chapter are brief descriptions of BDSM foreplay.

     Only then, as she pressed the button to summon the elevator, did a sudden wave of tightness wash through her stomach. She was in control, she knew, but regardless she was putting herself in the position of prey, something for Thor to hunt, and this was how prey felt, pupils dilated and pulse thudding. She could feel Thor’s body heat radiating from him and she glanced over her shoulder. He was clenching his teeth, a vein pulsing through his jaw beneath his beard. His eyes were piercing and focused, like a lion stalking a gazelle. She cracked a sly smile; his expression and posture were an open admission of the unbearable lust for her he felt, of the blood running overhot beneath his skin, of the struggle not to pin her to the wall the instant the elevator doors closed behind them.

     It was a struggle he lost. The last of his willpower evaporated before Natasha could select a floor to send the elevator and he moved toward her purposefully in the small, mirror-lined space. Despite the still-present vodka in her veins, Natasha’s reflexes were more than a match for Thor’s size and heavy movement. Natasha’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, bending it and dragging his face close to her own, but keeping his body turned away from her at an awkward angle disadvantageous to pressing his torso flush with hers. The unexpected pain and confusion painted across his face made Natasha tut, like she were scolding a puppy that didn’t understand why he was a bad dog for jumping on her. 

     “To which of our rooms are we going?” She asked sweetly, calmly, her mouth closer to his than it had gotten at the cocktail table. The music from the party just beyond the metal doors thrummed through the steel under their feet. “I’m not up for a public spectacle like the one that  would be created if those doors open up on us in the…” She paused, then leaned incrementally closer and gently took Thor’s bottom lip between her teeth, grazing the soft flesh. “…middle of something.” She watched him shudder and, unable to hold the awkward pose any longer, he dropped to one knee, blue eyes sharply trained on her clear, green ones. The hurt and confusion had gone from his face. He understood the game she was playing, now.

     “…Yes, forgive me.” It was the first he’d spoken since they had left the table. “…Forgive me,” He lowered his face, but flicked his gaze back up to her from under his brows. “…my Lady.”

     Natasha smiled serenely and released her hold on his wrist. He massaged it with his opposite hand, but remained lowered on one knee at her feet. 

     “If I may, my Lady, I believe your room might be better suited for…such activity as could follow.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face any better than the need from his eyes. Natasha calmly smiled and nodded, extending her hand toward him, relaxed and palm upward. He rested his reddening wrist in her palm and she closed her other hand over it, gently. 

     “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” She said, sweetly but every shade of it genuine, then paused and gently, sharply, smacked the back of his hand. “…but you should know better.” 

     Thor didn’t wince, nor did his features change. He merely bowed his head, not much shorter than her even when kneeling, and through an increasingly difficult to stifle grin said, “I apologize, my lady. I shall endeavor not to disrespect you again.” 

     “Good,” said Natasha, a sly smile playing across her face as well. They were on the same page now. She caressed the back of his hand as she pressed the round number in the elevator wall that would take them to the floor where her room sat in the tower. 

 


	5. Twin Skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of BDSM in this chapter.

     She motioned for Thor to rise to his feet as the elevator doors opened onto an empty hallway high in the Avengers Tower, lit decoratively by a streak of steel, fan-shaped sconces, and then practically by a soft, clear glow emanating from the ceiling. Thor stood, tall but inclining his head an inch. 

     She took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom door. The whole corridor on this side of the Avengers Tower was Natasha’s living and training quarters. Occasionally, she and Clint would train together here, but Thor had never until this point had reason to join her. His grasp tightened slightly around her palm as she led him to the end of the hallway and keyed in her security code to the thick black door that led to her living quarters. 

     “Welcome back, Ms. Romanov.” Friday’s voice greeted them, ambient and lilting. 

     “Thank you, Friday. Please keep Thor’s accompaniment to my quarters between us girls for now.”

     “Of course, Ms. Romanov. Should I also temporarily suspend the direct feed of the audio/video security measures?”

     Natasha glanced over her shoulder. She was used to keeping secrets, some spare few even from her team. As of yet, she wasn’t necessarily determined to keep her and Thor’s involvement steel-trap quiet forever, but the thought of video evidence of what she hoped would take place made her stomach turn uncomfortably. The details of the type of night she had in mind were among what her team didn’t know about her. 

     Excluding solely Thor, now, assuming he’d caught on properly. She let his hand slip from hers as she placed her bag of alcohol and drinking accouterment on the countertop of her bar.  

     “I trust you’ll know when to turn it back on, Friday?” 

     “I can assure you, I’m well versed in when discretion is appropriate. I have all the data Jarvis ever collected when he was Mr. Stark’s AI; particularly notable are from Mr. Stark’s frequent guests in his…younger days.” 

     “Younger but bolder, I’m sure.”

     “You’d be fasciated.”

     Natasha grinned, thanked Friday, and turned to Thor, still waiting just inside the threshold. She felt her grin falter slightly. This was the tricky part. She walked to the black couch dividing her living and dining rooms and sat, motioning evenly with her hand to Thor.

     “Come here. Sit with me.”  

     He obeyed, a small test but one he passed, resting his elbow on the couch back behind him and conspicuously crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. Natasha smirked.

     “You’re being patient. You learned your lesson in the elevator.”

     “Yes, Lady Natasha.” 

     She shivered at that phrase softly enveloped by his reverberating, regal voice, feeling her own impatience creeping over her. 

     “Listen, I want to make sure we really are on the same page, so for a few minutes, we’ll have to set aside the…presently charged atmosphere and speak frankly. Alright?” 

     She could see his restraint in the stress of his jawline, pulsing at the temples. Intrigue was managing to hold out against raw lust and she hoped it would ultimately pay off in both of their interests. It depended on how this conversation went. 

     “Yes,” He paused, “Yes, Lady Natasha. What would you ask of me?”

     “What are your limits?” 

     Taken aback, Thor thought for a moment. “I suppose…bringing harm to you.” 

     Natasha chuckled. “You’re sweet, but think more about yourself.”

     “Then forgive me, Lady Natasha, I cannot think of something a mortal, even one as formidable as yourself, could do to me that would cause me physical harm.”

     Natasha exhaled. It had been a while. She would need to start over.

     “Thor, have you ever felt overwhelmed by your position?”

     “My Lady?”

     “I mean, as a prince, a warrior, a demigod…that’s a lot of circumstance, a lot of reputation to uphold, isn’t it?”

     “Aye.”

     “Does it ever feel like it’s all too much?”

     Thor opened his mouth promptly, perhaps expecting a different question, or a simple answer. When he couldn’t compose a quick reply, his eyes dropped briefly in thought. Natasha found her pulse quickening at the delicate way Thor’s mouth remained parted as he thought, caught off-guard, pale gold transitioning to pink. His blood was red, proven in the tinge of his tongue and the flush on his cheeks. 

     “I suppose I know what you are trying to convey,” He answered her, looking up once more. “But I must admit it has never seemed like a burden that could be lifted, only one I must continue to bear, though it might at times seem impossible. If it were to exhaust me to the brink of collapsing, it would not matter. Asgard would still need its Prince, and Midgard its Avenger. I must simply persist, and invent ways to do so if need be.”

     She was left speechless for a moment at his eloquent confession of vulnerability, and  quietly she thought of her past, of a burden too great for a child to bear, but placed on her shoulders regardless and neither blood nor bruise nor shattered bone would be grounds to lift it. Natasha listened to Thor inhale twice before responding. 

     “You’re right. It can’t be lifted. You’ll still be the Prince of Asgard even if you think one more hour of it might make you faint. You have power, and you have a responsibility to wield it.” His brows peaked, unsure of where she was going with this. She shifted closer to Thor and gently touched the thigh of his crossed leg, letting the pressure of her palm both reassure him and reignite the blood under his skin. “But if you would like it, or even maybe need it, you can be relieved of that feeling for a while.” 

     She watched his face as she spoke, seeing her words take hold of and sink into his mind by the subtle shift of his brow and flick of his eye. “For a while, you can feel like you don’t need to be responsible for all that power. You can freely, safely, guiltlessly give it to someone else. You can let someone else be in charge. Someone like me, maybe.” 

     Thor’s mouth had parted slightly again as she spoke, lost in taking in her words and their meaning.

     “Do you…mean you wish to, er…” She watched his flush darken and tried to suppress a smirk. “…mount me, instead?”

     Her eyebrow quirked. Then she felt her Red Room-trained poker face crack against her will and she burst out laughing. Thor’s blush reddened further.

     “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have laughed,” Natasha grinned and collected herself. “It’s just…you were so cute, asking if I wanted you to take my dick.” She moved closer and pressed her thigh against the length of his. “Though, if that’s what you think it would take for you to feel like you’re truly surrendering power, to feel that relief, then that’s not off the table. You’d be surprised at what you can find hidden in my room.” 

     Thor furrowed his brow, still dissecting what she was proposing. “I understand, I think.” He said. Natasha smiled, a genuine smile, and it put Thor more at ease. He drew breath to speak and Natasha felt her stomach wobble. The easy part was seeing if he understood. The hard part was seeing if it was something he wanted. “I do not deny the chance to feel…unburdened is appealing, but I do not know how you propose to help me do so. What else is there? What can you tell me?” 

     Natasha exhaled and then chuckled. “It doesn't necessarily have to end with me pegging you, but it can.” Then, more cautiously, she asked him: “Do you know anything about BDSM?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've updated this fic, but I'm very, very proud of this chapter and all the thought and love that went into it. I decided I wanted a little bit more depth in this ThorTasha encounter than my previous fic, so rather than a simple sexy romp I wanted a particular vulnerability from both parties. It's a very delicate process to explain correctly exactly what BDSM is, or what it could be, particularly a female Master to a male slave, but I think I did a good job. For those who are curious, please don't be shy to message me and ask for clarification of anything in this chapter or future chapters! I'm planning a little more explanation in the next chapter since I think it's important readers unfamiliar with the practice know what it is (and what it is not) and how it works before diving straight into a bondage scene. Plus, I wanted to update as soon as I found a good chapter break rather than make you guys wait longer so I could finish the exposition completely. But I promise, right after that we will get to the fun stuff! Thank you for your readership!


	6. The Pros and Cons of Breathing

     Natasha had been an assassin for as long as she could remember, even before she took her first life. There were fewer conversations she’d needed to navigate more delicately than this one, whether in her past with someone she trusted, with a target who had an appetite that called for this, or here and now with Thor. He shook his head, indicating he knew little about the subject she’d broached. Here goes. 

     “When you’ve lived a life like mine, it’s difficult to feel truly intimately connected. A sexual encounter is hardly sacred when you’ve time and again had sex with someone for the sole purpose of making them easier to manipulate, or even assassinate.” 

     At this Thor smirked a little. “Yours is truly the name you’ve earned.” She couldn’t help but smily darkly back.

     “Yes. Though Black Widow is only part of who I am. Maybe most of who I am, but there is still a piece of me that’s human and suffers without real human intimacy. Or…Asgardian intimacy.” She grinned reservedly as Thor swallowed and flicked his eyes over her before meeting her gaze again. “But when you’ve lived a life like mine, it’s harder to feel that real, trusting connection again. Even if I was seducing someone who was genuinely into me, or even loved me, I was always faking the reciprocation. I’ve faked it over and over and over and it’s just…difficult to feel the real thing any more. To feel…loved I guess. Not necessarily loved…but cherished maybe. Yeah, I think cherished is the right word.” 

     “You wish for me to cherish you?”

     “Yes…in a way.”

     “In what way?” He lifted his arm and enveloped her hand resting on his thigh. His palm was rough on her knuckles, his pulse quick under his skin.

     “It’s a genuine stroke of luck that you’d be interested in me, Thor.” She shrugged, a practiced move, allowing her dress to shift and the strap slide over her shoulder, baring her collar bone. It always did the trick and Thor was no exception. “It seems you’re a little overburdened, and I could use someone to make me feel like royalty.” 

     “Tell me how, Lady Natasha, and I’ll see to it you feel cherished as a queen.” 

     A rush of hope blossomed in Natasha. The length of her thigh running along his made her ache. 

     “Back in the elevator, what did you feel?” Thor’s breathing, though heavier by the sentence, steadied as he thought.

     “I think I understood without knowing then what it was you’ve explained to me in moments past. Though I had no words with which to name it at the time.” He paused, “I suppose now I do.”

     Natasha grinned. “What words?” She was leading him in a practiced dance. He knew. He wanted to be lead. She could tell by the bob of the Adam’s apple in his throat.

     “Reverence. Relief. A desire to earn your touch. A desire to please you, whether it be carnally or otherwise, though I admit I hope for the former.” Natasha found her breath hitching. Thor’s hand clasped around hers was trembling and she could feel the pull of the fabric of his pants. “I’d only ever…swiftly and roughly made love. My desire was always eclipsed by some sense of urgency, some…beast-like rush, as if, were I to couple slowly with my lover, I would…I would feel more than the lustful pulse of lovemaking. I realize now I shied away from this kind of intimacy purposefully, perhaps because my lineage as a Prince called for a kind of distance in most matters, but the precise reason why I behaved this way matters not now. I tried to implement the same behavior with you. You denied me that, something no lover of mine has ever done. In your skilled grasp, on one knee before you, I realized there was a different way I could be intimate with you. I…I realize now this is something I crave. Something I need. Please,” At this, he slid off the couch and onto his knees before her, one hand clasped in both of his. He begged, “How can I earn your touch? How may I please you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to navigate. I wanted to find exactly the right words, but I think I've done it. Thank you for your patience and readership!


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